i'm filing a complaint.

I’m sick of it already. I’m finally going to complain about Hillary and Mr. Obama complaining about complaints. It’s not fair how much those two are allowed to complain without their mothers smacking them in the back of their heads. If I complain, my mom yells at me. Maybe they’ll shut the hell up if I send her after them with a flyswatter and dish soap. Lavender dish soap. That shit smells nasty, so it’s easy to assume that it tastes god-awful too.
You know what else? I’m going to complain about Hillary, my ex-best friend. She is one of the most (unemotional, inhuman) sexist people I’ve ever ‘met’, saying, “…if you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen. Just speaking for myself, I am very comfortable in the kitchen.” That really irks me. What is she getting at, saying that as a woman, she feels comfortable in the kitchen? Is she trying to tell the world (the two people who’ve read this) that all women like being in the kitchen? As a real female who doesn’t own a closet-full of pants suits, I’d like to tell her that I’m much more comfortable watching TV on the couch than cooking in a hot kitchen. Kitchens are not the homes of women, lady, okay? They haven’t been since the 1950’s. Just ask Mr. McCain, he’d remember it perfectly, as if it were yesterday (he’s been napping almost non-stop since then). Hillary, you wouldn’t be so “comfortable” as a “woman” if you worked with the assholes who call themselves “chefs” on Hell’s Kitchen. You may be incredibly detached from human emotions, but Gordon Ramsay could make even you cry and drop out of the Race.
I know people who know people who probably know people. Don’t mess with me, woman. I can indirectly make your robot eyes rust if you don't clean up your sexist act.

[Lola.]